Dreaming of Spring

When cold grey covers my pointed hood

when Wind’s icy fingers grow

I think back to the sweetest Spring

back to where my heart would go

down among the fragrant pine

in hollows steep with trees

I go there still within my heart

on wintry days like these..


3 responses to “Dreaming of Spring”

  1. This was quite nostalgic for me. So redolent of a place I revert to sometimes in my mind, as I have not seen it in seven years now, of rolling, roving prairie, infringed with distant forest. There is a fantastic, favonian breeze, sweet with the scent of wild-flowers, the bluestem grasses glinting like the sea, waves brushed by the wind, soughing softly. And the sunlight crawls across the landscape, shadows swimming fast away, and then all-enveloping yet again as the clouds hurry fast across the sky. The perfect moment. Beautiful, vivid poem. Can imagine the stark landscape, so devoid of life, gnarly stone gleaming gelid, the frigid wind, the bleak winter- to dart into that sanctuary of thought and memory, the smell of pine, the embrace of sun, to that place of Spring. Excellent poem indeed and fabulous photo! Ebullient cheers,

    Autumn Jade

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